


Or would they go on aching still Through Centuries of Nerve –

by Veraison



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Chronically Ill Laurent, Gen, M/M, Overprotective Auguste, Period Typical Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28673163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veraison/pseuds/Veraison
Summary: Damen walked Laurent to his door.“Are you coming in?” Laurent asked, opening the door and stepping in. Damen was still standing by the doorway.“You said your head hurt?” He wanted to come in, but it did not feel wise.Laurent snorted and pulled Damen in by the front of his chiton. “I have heard orgasms help with that.”------Laurent is the only family Auguste still has left and letting go is harder than most would believe.
Relationships: Auguste & Laurent (Captive Prince), Auguste & Nikandros (Captive Prince), Auguste/Nikandros (Captive Prince), Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 96





	Or would they go on aching still Through Centuries of Nerve –

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maïs Art](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Ma%C3%AFs+Art).



Laurent was the only family he had left. Their mother had passed from child birth, just a moment after the girl had come to the world, as still born. Grippe had taken their father and uncle. And now it had Laurent in its hands.

"I cannot promise anything, your Majesty. Your brother is young, only thirteen, but he has always been a sickly child. We just have to wait and see," Paschal said. And Laurent was not the only one sick; the grippe was known to lead people from every class into a dance of death.

"Please, let me see him," Auguste begged. He had been kept out of Laurent's room, he was the king and had no heir other than Laurent. But he was also a brother.

Akielos had not been similarly affected by the sickness. However, it had claimed the life of the oldest prince, Kastor. Theomedes had only his other son left, his wife and lover long dead. Auguste had never felt this kind of kinship to an Akielon before.

He knelt before Paschal and held onto his robe. “You have to let me in. What if he dies, alone and abandoned? I do not care if the damn plague takes me too, let it. I do not care who inherits this wretched country. I need to see my brother.” Auguste felt his face twist from grief and despair. His knuckles shone white against Paschal’s dark robe. The physician still seemed unsure, but in the end, he nodded. Auguste scrambled to his feet.

Laurent’s hair had been shorn to give all his spirit the chance to focus on healing his body. Auguste’s eyes filled with tears. His mother had always loved Laurent’s gair, his soft, golden curls. Laurent was sickly pale, a shade of yellow, against the pillows. Every vein seemed pronounced in his malnourished body. He was small and frail and Auguste wanted nothing more than to gather him in his arms.  
Instead he saw down on the bed and took Laurent’s hand into his own. Laurent blinked, then opened his eyes. He gave Auguste a weak smile.

“They said I was not allowed visitors.”

Auguste made a face. “I do not care. You are all I have now. If they make me choose between my crown and you, it will always be you.”

Laurent frowned in reply. “Father would not want to hear that.”

“Father is not here anymore.”

Laurent nodded. “Yes. The fever might have taken my hair, but I still have my memory. And Uncle? He is gone too?” Laurent sounded anxious. Once Auguste nodded, Laurent turned his eyes to the window. The sun was shining, making mockery of the tragedy that had befallen them. 

“It truly is just you and me now.”

“Auguste! I told you I will be taking part in the festivities!”

Auguste turned his gaze away from his council and to his little brother, who had just stormed in. Laurent was still small and frail, but the last five years had given him some lean muscle, making him slender, opposed to scrawny. His hair had grown back, like Auguste, he kept it braided. His skin was smooth and white as milk. He was not often seen by the court, but every time it ended up with some men sent away. Auguste had no patience for men lusting after his brother with disrespect. He had no need to hear what people wanted to do to his brother.

“Yes, and I told you we will be staying up late, drinking wine and eating red meat. It would be very bad for your body.”

“Oh, because it is so healthy for you?”

Auguste glared at him. “If you want to have any chance of changing my mind, you can talk to me at dinner.”

They took their dinner alone once a week. It had started as a nice tradition, to make sure Laurent would have some semblance of family life and time with his brother. Now, the dinners were usually close to psychological warfare. Laurent wanted to ride alone, he wanted to travel, he wanted to do everything that made Auguste worry even more.

The grippe had left Laurent with headaches, so bad he would lie down in a dark room and vomit, he got sick easily, and he would faint, if he was too tired. His stomach could not handle all foods. Auguste wished he could make Laurent happy in the palace and he had tried. Laurent had his own baths, where the walls were painted with scenes from the ocean. He had many horses he could ride around the garden. The library was filled with books and Auguste was always ready to buy new ones. Laurent could have anything he wanted, as long as he stayed close. 

Laurent came to dinner already furious. Auguste missed the little boy who had followed him around, happy to just spend time with him.

“I was told you once again turned down a marriage proposal,” Laurent spit out. Auguste sighed. This had been their main point of contention for the last year. His council had pressured him for even longer, but until Laurent was twenty-one or married, Auguste needed to be able to concentrate on his brother. His life had no place for a wife or husband.

“You do not believe I could handle sharing you? You think I need you?” Laurent continued, still standing.

“Your soup is getting cold,” Auguste said. There was no use to argue with Laurent. He did not even know how his brother found out these things, all the rumors and political schemes. 

“Good, I do not want to eat it anyway.” Laurent’s dinner was most often a vegetable soup with bread on the side. Meat did not suit him. Auguste had spent enough nights by his bedside, holding his hair while Laurent threw up. He was no tyrant: Laurent was allowed to try different foods as he desired, but his dinner Auguste had ordered to be suitable for his stomach. 

“Laurent, if you do not eat, you will have a headache tomorrow.” They had gone through this whole song-and-dance so many times before. When it had first started, Auguste had been startled, giving in to Laurent’s demands. He had learned since. At fifteen, Laurent had been easy to send to his room to calm down. Auguste thought if asking the prince’s guard to deliver his brother back to his bed was too much.

“I do not care. It does not matter if I eat or not, I will still have a headache.”

“If you have decided you are done, then you can go back to your room.”

Laurent crossed his arms and shook his head. Auguste got up.

“Laurent, I am giving you one last warning.”

While Laurent had inherited their mother’s small frame, Auguste had grown a head taller than even their father had been, and he had been a tall man. So he just put his arms around Laurent’s waist and pulled him over his shoulder.

“What are you doing? Let me go! Auguste!” Laurent started hitting his back, but Auguste did not care. He thought about adding some embarrassment to Laurent’s experience, but decided against it. Laurent was already at least annoyed with him, best not to make it worse.

Auguste threw Laurent on his bed, well, put carefully. He did not want to hurt his brother.

“Laurent, I know you want to be part of the festivities, but you know that it would be hard for you. And the Akielons will be here, so I cannot get away to take care of you.” Auguste only trusted himself and Paschal with his brother.

“But that is why I want to be there! Damen will be there!”

Damen, Damianos. The Akielon crown prince and the man with whom Laurent had exchanged letters for the past three years. Theomedes had wished for his son to learn Veretian and Auguste’s brother had wanted something important to do, by his own words. After that, Auguste had heard much of Damen. How Damen rode alone in the hills of Ios, how he fought with swords, and did Auguste think he could beat Damen, and how Damen had traveled around Akielos and wanted to see Vere too and how Damen liked to be out in the sun and swim in the ocean. Laurent had never even seen the ocean, and Auguste got stressed every time his little brother got close to deep water, as he did not know how to swim. 

“Yes, and he can come visit you in your private rooms, with a chaperone. Or you can go riding in the garden. And of course you can have dinner with us and all that, but the festivities continue through the night and we will visit the town and everything.” Auguste could not leave during that to take Laurent back.

But Laurent shook his head. “No, I do not want him to see me as weak. In Akielos, they value health and strength. He will not like me if he finds out how sick I am.”

“Then he is not worth your time.” Auguste already felt angry with the Akielons for causing his little brother distress.

“I want us to be friends,” Laurent said, blushing. Auguste’s heart shrunk a little. He knew Laurent was lonely. Most boys of eighteen had so much more going on in their lives. He looked at his brother. A young man, beautiful and right now, it looked like nothing was wrong with him. But then, the pain would come again. Auguste closed his eyes and took a long breath.

“Alright. We will have to talk about this some more. You cannot drink too much, or stay up too late, and other things like that. But yes, you can spend time with Damen.”

For a moment it looked like Laurent would throw himself in Auguste’s arms. Instead he smiled in a way that warmed Auguste all over.

Laurent hid his smirk. He knew Auguste so often felt guilty. Especially when he had to leave Laurent to his own devices. Every now and then he had tried to get Laurent some friends: boys from noble families. Laurent never understood what Auguste thought he had in common with such morons, who stank of sweat and only wanted to use Laurent to get in Auguste’s good graces.

The Akielons arrived the next day. Theomedes had stayed behind, so prince Damianos rode at the front. Auguste gulped as he saw how tall and simply big the man was. Surely he did not know how to be cautious. Surely he would want to wrestle, or do something dangerous, and Laurent would want to join. It was too late to send Laurent away now. He stood by Auguste’s side, dressed in dark blue and gold, laced tightly and trying his best not to smile.

As soon as Nikandros saw the two blonds, he wanted to turn back. However, he was on a diplomatic mission. He would just have to keep Damen close and not let him fuck the Veretian prince. As if that could be avoided. Nikandros saw Damen swinging down from his horse and how the younger of the blonds, the prince, almost gasped. Thankfully, Damen had the sense of mind to first bow to Auguste. Then, he knelt before the prince and kissed his hand.

“Prince Laurent, I take it? Your letters have brought me sich joy for three years. It feels indescribable to finally see your face.” Damen smiled in a way that made maidens and warriors alike swoon. “And what a face it is!”

Auguste opened his mouth before Laurent could speak. “My good friend Berenger shall show you the stables. And give you horses to bring back to your father as a gift.” He put his arm around Laurent’s shoulder and whispered in his ear:  
“And we are going to talk.”

“Damianos seems… so big. And so careless. I fear that he is not a suitable companion to you,” Auguste said, once they were alone. Laurent blew air out of his nose.

“It might not appear so at first glance. But we have talked about so much. And while does not know the extent of my illness, he is aware not everyone can lift horses and drink oceans as he does on a daily basis.” Laurent’s face took a stern look. “And you promised. You promised to let me have this experience. To not to have to worry about my overbearing elder brother, as well as my illness.”

“Laurent, you know that I just…” Auguste exhaled deeply. “It is just hard.”

Usually boys were sent as squires to other noble houses at the age of fifteen. And Laurent, while being Auguste’s heir, was still encouraged by the council to go. They promised Auguste that they would not let him practice with swords, that it all could be modeled to suit the prince and his needs.

Auguste had not let Laurent go. And it was mostly out of his own selfish desire to have his brother close. Auguste started each morning by waking Laurent up and ended each day by telling his brother good night. While Laurent had been younger, Auguste would sometimes sneak in and check that he was still breathing. Every night he dreamt about the summer when he had lost all of his family, except Laurent. And he would tear himself awake, one thing clear in his mind.

He is all that I have. 

Auguste looked at Laurent. He wanted to give his brother the world, but what if it meant losing him?

“Alright. But you have to be careful enough for the both of you.”

Laurent gave Auguste a quick peck on his cheek. “I promise. I am going to find Damen now!”

Auguste lifted his hand on his cheek. It had been so long since Laurent had so openly shown affection to him.

Auguste decided it was probably time to meet with the rest of the Akielons. Let Laurent entertain the young prince, Auguste would handle the diplomatic matters. Auguste had servants deliver food to his room and asked for them to invite Kyros of Ios in. Theomedeshad told the position holder had recently changed and Auguste was intrigued to find out more. The reason for the change had been the old age of the former kyros, but Auguste needed to know more about the new one. After all, beside the king and prince, the kyros was the most influential man in Akielos. He was surprised when in came a young man, almost his own age. The next thing he noticed was the limping. The skin of the right knee was red and scarred, with white lines. It did not bend properly. Still, the kyros knelt before Auguste, as customs dictated. And then he asked:

“Your Majesty, I should stand in your presence, but my knee is weak. Could I be allowed to sit?”

Auguste was no stranger to seeing battle wounds, even missing limbs, but to hear someone speak so candidly of his own, asking for accomodations, was rare.

He nodded. “Yes, of course.” He wanted to ask so many questions, but it felt improper.

The man stood up and sat on the chair facing Auguste.

“My name is Nikandros. I am the new Kyros of Ios, in your service.”

Auguste found Nikandros easy to deal with, especially for an Akielon. He still spoke straight, but respectfully and he was educated in Veretian matters as well as Akielon. They got along well, until Auguste said:  
“I think it is time we invite prince Damianos here. He is, after all, heir to the throne.”

Nikandros appeared confused. “He went riding with your brother. Prince Laurent said he would inform you.”

“Well, they are just in the garden then, we can easily invite them both here.” There was already a snake coiling around Auguste’s stomach.

“They went riding out in the woods.”

Laurent’s body was aching. His knees were weak, his shoulder blades seemed out of place, like there was fabric between them and their proper alignment. Around his head was a circle of pain, throbbing with enough force to make him nauseous. He had never felt so alive. So joyful. His life was filled with pain every day, but at least now, he was outside in the forest, filled with green and light mist. And Damianos was next to him, talking to him about his life back in Akielos. He was just as Laurent had imagined based on his letters. They stopped by a small spring to drink. Laurent watched as Damen quenched his thirst, how the muscles in his neck moved, how his lips were glimmering with drops of water. Laurent put his hands on Damen’s cheeks and turned his face to himself.

He kissed Damen. At first he kept his mouth closed, chaste as when he kissed Auguste on the cheek. Then, once Damen had put his hand on Laurent’s waist, pulling him closer, Laurent let his mouth open a little. Yelling and the sound of horses made them jump apart, like two children afraid to get caught in mischief. From the bushes came out Jord.

“Your highness, your brother has been asking for you.”

Laurent almost cursed. He had thought they would have more time. He had hoped Auguste would not find out, and if he did, it would be after Akielons left.

“You went out riding to the forest, without even your guard.” Auguste’s voice was cold and thin, which told Laurent he was not just annoyed, but filled with rage. He was thankful that Damen was not at least there to see Auguste scolding him like a youth.

“I am eighteen. I am more than capable of riding by myself. And I was not alone, I had Damen with me.” Laurent was good with horses, Auguste knew it. Laurent’s mare would have brought him home even if he had passed out. “I am old enough to decide for myself now. I do not have to listen to you.”

Auguste’s smile was small, but it made Laurent grit his teeth.

“I am not only your elder brother and the head of this family, I am also the King. And you will do as I say, as long as you live in Vere.”

Laurent tried to bite his lip, but he could not stop himself.

“I hate it when you are like this,” he hissed. They were in his room, otherwise he would have stormed off. But his head hurt and crying would only make it worse.

Auguste rubbed his forehead. “Laurent… I know this is hard for you, that you are so different and need more help than others. But it is nothing to be ashamed of. And I think you could let Damianos know about this. The kyros, they are close friends, and the kyros has a weak knee…”

“A weak knee? Of course the Akielons appreciate battle wounds! Mine is just,” Laurent took a breath, “a natural weakness of my character.”

“It is not that. It was just a different kind of a battle.” Auguste shook his head. “You do not remember or maybe your memories were taken by the fever, but you were truly ill. I was so afraid I would lose you too.”

“You did not. But you will, if you do not let me live.”

Auguste did not know what to say. Finally, he had to yield.

“Alright, we will still go with your plan. But tonight, when we ride to the town for the summer festival,” which he knew Laurent was most excited about, “you will tell me if you need to go back. And we will talk about you going against the rules once the Akielons are gone.”

Laurent nodded.

Laurent drank wine at the dinner. Auguste did his best not to say anything, but he could not help trying to send Laurent looks. But his brother was speaking with Damianos, twirling a lock of his hair around his finger. Damianos laughed.

“How did you injure your knee?” Auguste blurted out. Nikandros, who had concentrated on his food and drink, had his mouth full. They sat a moment in silence, before Nikandros was done eating.

“I hurt it in Okton. It got infected and the bone would not go back in its correct place.”

Auguste knew about Oktons. 

“How long has it been since?”

Nikandros counted. “Five years. Damianos stayed by my side through it all. They were worried it would need to be amputated.”

Auguste tried not to feel sympathy toward Damianos. He knew something about sitting at someone’s bedside.

Auguste’s anxiety spiked when they started to get ready for the ride to the town. Laurent and Damen were so intertwined to each other, lost to the others. Auguste tried to signal for Laurent to wait, so they could ride together. But he could not get his brother’s attention.

“Do you visit the town often?” Nikandros asked. Auguste ended up riding with him, just after his brother and Damianos. Auguste shook his head.

“I try to visit during the winter festival and the summer festival. And of course, the harvest party. But mostly I have civil servants working with my people and then they bring their concerns to me.”

Nikandros replied something, but Auguste spotted Laurent touching his forehead. He did that when his head hurt. Auguste sped up until he was next to his brother.

“Are you alright?”

“My head hurts. I think it would be better if I were to turn back.”

Relief filled Auguste, until Damianos turned around too.

“I will see him back! You and Nikandros can enjoy the festival!”

Damen walked Laurent to his door. 

“Are you coming in?” Laurent asked, opening the door and stepping in. Damen was still standing by the doorway.

“You said your head hurt?” He wanted to come in, but it did not feel wise.

Laurent snorted and pulled Damen in by the front of his chiton. “I have heard orgasms help with that.”

Nikandros had fun with the Veretian king, which he had not anticipated. He had come because Damen had asked him, telling him that because he wanted to spend time with Laurent, someone else would need to deal with the king. Nikandros could have told him that he should still do it, that to be the future king was to make some sacrifices. But instead, he had wanted to offer Damen some carefree youth before more weight was piled upon his shoulders.

They rode back, even more drunk. Auguste had flowers in his hair. They made him look pretty, it reminded Nikandros of maidens back home. He shook his head to sober himself up.  
He felt somehow happy, as if he had experienced something new or at least something old after a long time without, and now his bed was calling for him.  
He opened the door. On his bed sat Damen, wearing only his loincloth, with the Veretian prince on his lap, wrapped in a sheet.

“What happened?” Nikandros asked. He had not been ready for a diplomatic catastrophe. “Is he dead?”

“No! We were…” Damen blushed. “Being intimate and he passed out. But he won’t wake up. I tried to give him some room, call his name and pour some water on his forehead.”

“We will have to call for a physician.”

Just then the door opened. 

“Nikandros? Have you seen prince Damianos? My little brother is missing and I think-”

Auguste stopped. For a moment Nikandros feared he would attack Damen right there. 

“Damianos, go find a physician,” Nikandros ordered. It would be better if Auguste took his anger out on Nikandros. But Auguste only passed by him, kneeling next to Laurent, petting his hair.

“I should not have let him try all these new things at the same time. He was…” Auguste swallowed. “He is sick. He has pain almost daily, he faints when he gets exhausted. He wanted to experience the same things as anyone else. But I should not have let him.”

“He never told Damianos,” Nikandros answered.

“No. He did not want to. He feared it would cost him their friendship.” Auguste groaned. “And now I feel I missed the obvious signs of a crush.”

Nikandros stayed quiet for a moment. Then he said: “Sometimes I choose to put my happiness before avoidance of pain. I can not stop living because I fear pain. Just like you may choose to ride long enough to make your ass hurt the next day. Or to drink too much. You judge the experience worth the consequences. Your brother deserves the same chance.”

Auguste had no idea what to reply. Then, the old phrase came to his mind.

“He is all I have.”

“Yes. But this life is all he has. You love him, it is clear. But the time to protect him is over now. Let him try his limits. In the end, you cannot protect him from death.”

Laurent blinked and turned his face to Auguste. “Why are you here, brother? Where is Damen?”

“He is looking for a physician.” Auguste realized Damianos probably had no idea where to start looking.

Laurent stretched and noticed his unusual attire. His face went red. 

“What happened?”

When Damen finally returned with Paschal, they were all relieved to hear that Laurent was alright.

“Next time his highness wants to experience new things, he should talk with a physician beforehand," Paschal advised, with twinkling eyes.

Laurent looked at Damianos, who sat on his left side. “I am sorry, I should have told you. I was just afraid you would not want me anymore.”

Damen’s smile was tired, but honest. “You are a good man, wise and courageous. I have learnt all that from your letters. I understand this affects your life, but I want you to be part of mine, however you want to be.”

Laurent kissed him on the cheek. “I want to be part of it in every way I can.”

Auguste cleared his throat. “While I have half a mind to put Laurent over my knee," which made Laurent yelp indignantly, “I think I have an idea.”

Two weeks after, the Akielons left. The amount of men was the same, but in the midst of dark curls, there was a spot of blond hair. Laurent had changed places with Nikandros. Officially the plan was to strengthen relations between Akielos and Vere. Personally, Auguste was hoping for a marriage. Damianos had won his trust. He looked at Nikandros, who stood by his side as they watched the riders until they disappeared. 

“I miss him already.” The old worry was building inside of him.

Nikandros put his hand on Auguste’s shoulder. “You made the right choice. And they will visit us soon again. Or we can go to Ios, and I can show you the ocean.”

Auguste smiled. “I would like that.” He and Laurent were not alone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "I measure every Grief I meet (561)" by Emily Dickinson.
> 
> Another request filled!  
> Request here:  
> https://nikandlaurent.tumblr.com/
> 
> I will probably take a bit of a break: then write an epilogue to Catharsis and then a one shot in the same universe. Then another request to fill!
> 
> I love comments as always!!  
> P.S this fic is not meant to be medically accurate
> 
> By the way: I see some people giving kudos to all my fics! I would love to chat with you!!!


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